On the Thursday I came within seconds of missing my bus to Belgium. There had been a delay on the tube and I’d lost track of time. Fortunately the bus driver wasn’t punctual either. The journey to Brussels was as dull as you would expect. I sat next to a Daily Mail reading woman and listened to the Blood Brothers.
Brussels seemed deserted when I arrived. Following the usual sketchy directions I eventually found the hostel, had a couple of cheap (and, naturally, amazing) Chimays and a half decent kip. Next morning it was drizzly and cold. After standard hostel-breakfast I had a look around the sights and found the place a great deal more seedy (and consequentially more interesting) than I’d expected.
After a kebab and a few bottles of fanta I caught an afternoon bus to Luxembourg, which meandered around the border for a few hours before dropping only me off. I’d come there to visit Jan, but after no e-mail replies and no number to call it looked as if I might have to give it up and stay in a hostel. After wandering around looking in vein for an internet cafe to check one more time I walked out of the pedestrianised centre towards the outskirts. Just when I’d decided to give up I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to see Jan. He’d spotted me on his bus home from work, even more o a strange co-incidence considering I’d only been on a bus route for two minutes or so and that this was to be his last ever bus-ride home from work.
We spent the evening drinking high-quality Belgian beer with other Czechoslovaks, telling them our new anecdote. The following day Jan’s girlfriend Hanka showed me the few sights to be seen in the town before the rain forced us to hide in an English pub and drink a lot more Leffe, which made the trip to the supermarket much funnier.
On the Sunday Jan drove the three of us through southern Germany to Prague in his flashy new audi – a smooth, uneventful trip where all I did was snooze and eat half a kilo of grapes.
My street in Brussels
Shops in Brussels
En-route to Prague